Turmoil
by TheDemonsAreInside
Summary: This is a Franky/Erica FanFiction containing some Erica backstory but mainly focussing on the development of their relationship starting from halfway through Series 1 Episode 10 and then continuing in its own direction! I can't write summaries but the Fic should be better so please read and tell me what you think!
1. Chapter 1

**Sorry that this chapter is short and shit - the next one should be longer! Please tell me what you think! ****Try to enjoy this FanFiction if you can...**

"You know what scares you the most?" she's forced me into a corner; her dark eyes following mine as they desperately search for an escape from a situation completely out of my control. I need control; that's why I took on the role of prison governor; to establish a high level of control over other people as if that would somehow make up for the complete lack of control I have over my own life... my own feelings... because I absolutely hate the absence of control that I have when it comes to those.

Franky's going on with her burning crusade of truths. "That when you're fucking him... you're thinking of me." And she's right... of course she is... When he's on top of me and his rough lips are skating over my smooth ones as he goes into me I don't think of him at all; I think of her; how it would feel to run my hands through her short, dark hair with her single plain, how her soft rouge lips would feel against mine as she lifts the corners up into a seductive smile, and her eyes... her beautiful, mysterious eyes; so dark and tempting... the eyes gazing into mine right now; imploring me to get closer and oh god how much I want to give in to my feelings... But I can't... It's too late for that... I'm married to a _man_ now and that's how it's meant to be...

"Get out!" I don't recognise the words as they escape my lips; I can't think of anything except for how much I want her warm lips pressing furiously against mine and how afraid I am of stepping away from the life I know and love... the comfortable but not-quite-satisfying one... because I don't live the life I _really_ want to... I live a fucking lie. And I hate it.

And now Franky's hands are on my cheeks and she's moving into me and closing her eyes and I want to join her in her blissful blindness as our lips sing the song of our hearts... oh god I want to join her... but I'm too afraid... so I try to pull away from her... but she just comes at me harder; her hands firm and cool against my flushed cheeks as I try to fight her off me; travelling onto her neck... along her arms... But then she moves her tongue roughly against mine and I forget why I ever wanted to get her off me at all... I want nothing more than her rapid, delirious lips on my own; the smooth curves of her body pressed against mine; her arm muscles rippling as she pulls me tightly into her; deepening the kiss.

But then our fiery moment of dangerous passion is over and she's opening those deep, dark eyes I've loved for longer than I'd care to admit; holding my gaze for an unrelentingly intimate moment I never want to end before moving towards the door and flashing me my favourite flirtatious grin; her tongue moving about in her mouth before she moves away. And I want to follow her; I really do... I want to run down the corridor after her and pin her against the wall and let her do things to me that no-one's ever done to me before... I want to tell her what she does to me when she leans against the wire mesh fence that separates her world from mine... I want her to make me feel alive... But I'm too numb with shock to move... too numb to think... So I just collapse into a chair at my desk; burying my sweaty face in my palms and starting to cry; warm, wet tears dripping down my face as I remember the first time I saw Franky Doyle.

The guards were struggling to control her as they dragged her thrashing form through the prison whilst other prisoners clamoured around her; desperate to befriend the fierce, hot-tempered woman that the world fell in love with as she debuted her violent side on a major TV cookery show; throwing a pan of boiling oil over the show's presenter and gaining a massive fan base in the process. She shot me a wild, deranged glance as she passed, and as her dark cobalt eyes connected with mine I realised that there was a lot more to this crazed prisoner than the stupid, angry front she presented in her brief attempt at gaining a televised rise to worldwide fame because I can see the secrets hidden behind the fury; the past she's desperately struggling to hide away from by making her present so dangerously unpredictable that she has little time to think of anything else. And she's gone about it the right way; ending up here... in Wentworth Prison where riots and stabbings are the norm; the cellmates coming up with ever more sadistic ways to make each other hurt... ever more cruel games to play... It's a madly unorganised, chaotic mess. And that's why I love it.


	2. Chapter 2

**Thanks for your lovely reviews on my previous chapter and sorry that this one took so long and it's only short and pretty shit.**

**Someone asked for a link to my Wentworth (Franky and Erica) Fan Video so here it is: watch?v=efQ6ODwqpeo (copy that into Google and my video will come up). Feel free to tell me what you think of it (and this chapter) - all feedback is much appreciated!**

My legs are shaking as I drag myself to the prison's library for my weekly lesson with prison rebel Franky Doyle; the first one since our unprecedented encounter in my office a couple of days ago. I try to tell myself that it's going to be fine; that everything's going to go back to normal, but it's all lies. I've never been very good at lying to myself; not when I tried to tell myself that I was straight – that I liked _men_... nor when I told myself that I didn't like Franky... And now I don't even trust myself anymore because I sit on a delicate throne of intricate lies; one that could crumble at the lightest touch. And I hate it... I hate it all.

Franky's sitting demurely at a desk in the library and she lifts her head as I walk in; her azure eyes lighting up as I stroll towards her; collapsing into an uncomfortable plastic chair to face her; looking into her sex-filled eyes as she smiles at me with lust on her lips. And perhaps I sit a bit closer to her than I normally would; my hand resting next to hers on the table; close enough that we could touch but not so close that we have to.

"Sweet dreams," Franky smiles; flashing a set of perfect white teeth at me as I gaze at her; transfixed by her unwavering confidence. I wish I could be like that; unafraid... unashamed... But my sexuality terrifies me more than any of Wentworth's most violent murderous inmates ever did. It's like a weight I carry with my every day; tucked deep inside my soul; one that I'm too terrified to set free.

Franky's comment isn't a question either; somehow she knows that I drifted off into an uneasy sleep by my husband's side with her face on my mind and woke up unsettled by the dream I had of her and me; the same one that I've had many times before; the one I love and hate in equal measure. Because aren't dreams more real than reality ever was? I can live a lie but I can't dream of one; I'm more me in my sleep than I am whilst awake.

"Look... Franky... What happened the other day... in my office... It was a mistake, okay?" I stumble awkwardly on my words as I try to reject her advances. "I'm... I'm not like you... I'm not one of... one of them..."

"One of them?" Franky stares at me with unblinking dark eyes; fury flaring up behind her icy blue irises. "One of what?"

"You know... girls... who like girls..."

Franky laughs callously. "Erica... you don't need to lie to me..." I should've known that Franky would see right through me as if I was a sheet of glass because she gets people; Franky does... she _understands_ them. And maybe that's because she took so long to understand herself; to understand what her heart was saying to her... what her body was saying to her about her sexual orientation. Because society was saying something else and she didn't know who to believe. So then she fucked a girl. And she worked it out. I wish I could do the same but I'm too scared to take a step away from the safe haven that I'd lived in for so long because what if I like it? What if I _enjoy_ a woman's company the way I've never been able to enjoy a man's? It would destroy me. And so I life a safe life. And I hate it.

"Look Erica," Franky leans towards me; my fearful eyes irresistibly drawn to her dark ones; watching as she stares straight into my eyes as if she's trying to mead me. "We can pretend it didn't happen if that would make you happy... And just carry on like we used to... But that's not what you want is it? Because you want to be happy, don't you? And if you think about it... are you really going to be happy... truly happy... being someone you _know_ you're not? Because if you lie to yourself as badly as you lie to me you must surely know that you don't live the life you want to. So why don't you try something new? Something dangerous?"

"Because," I say. "Because I'm terrified."

"Don't be scared of yourself," Franky sighs; brushing her dark tangled plait behind her ear. "Be scared of-" But I never hear what I should be scared of because Franky's warning is cut off by a strangled cry as a prisoner rushes into the library; crimson blood spilling down the front of her blue jumper; her scarlet curls bouncing up and down as she stumbles towards Franky; opening her mouth to say something before collapsing onto the floor in a writhing, convulsing heap.

"Fuck," Franky curses under her breath; turning at me and yelling at me to fetch a medic. And so I do; rushing out of the library; turning at the door to see Franky kneeling over Bea's body; watching helplessly as a woman creeps up behind Franky; grabbing her from behind and holding a knife to her throat.


End file.
